


Hour of Greatest Need (The Left to His Own Devices Remix)

by Sineala



Series: Camelot? Camelot! [2]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Camelot, M/M, Pining, Remix, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's kneeling in a muddy, blood-soaked field and cradling Arthur Pendragon's body in his arms. Behind his mask, there are tears running down his face. This is when he realizes the Avengers aren't coming for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hour of Greatest Need (The Left to His Own Devices Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teyke/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Once and Future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651476) by [Teyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teyke/pseuds/Teyke). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Teyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teyke/pseuds/Teyke) in the [Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2016) collection. 



> This is a remix of Teyke's [Once and Future](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4651476), which is an AU of [What If? v1 #33](http://marvel.com/comics/issue/12147/what_if_1977_33) ("What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?") which is itself an AU of Iron Man v1 #149-150 ([Doomquest](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doomquest)). Whew. 
> 
> I highly encourage you to read Teyke's story before this one; this is essentially just Tony's POV and as such it spoils the whole thing. Go read it. It's short. (Some dialogue was taken from the What If as well as from Teyke's story.)
> 
> Thanks to nostalgicatsea for looking this over and thanks to Ellidfics for help with heraldry.

At first Tony thinks someone must be coming for him.

Oh, he worries at the very beginning, after Doom strands him here in Camelot, that he'll never get home, but -- he always gets home, doesn't he? He calls himself cynical, he calls himself a pragmatist, he worries that his friends don't care enough to come look -- but in his secret heart, he believes.

They're coming for him.

They always have. They always do. Someone will save him.

He used to dream about how great it would be to visit Camelot. And it was. It is. But he doesn't want to live here.

He trusted Victor von Doom, because he had no other choice, and he cannibalized a hell of a lot of his armor to help Doom build a time machine. And, what do you know, Doom took off with the time machine and left him here.

No one comes.

He repairs his armor, as best he can. He fights off brigands and Saxons. He's _knighted_. Sir Anthony of Iron. King Arthur knights him. He's a knight of the Round Table. When he was a kid he spent months on end poring over the Matter of Britain. This is his fantasy come true. It's-- well, it's not his home. But it's where he is now.

The Avengers will come for him, he tells himself. He'll go back to where he belongs. Steve will come for him. There will be a portal, and Steve will step through, and he'll smile, and Tony will take his hand, and they'll go home.

He wonders if this is how Steve felt when they woke him from the ice.

And then there's a battle, because of course there's a battle, and Arthur and Mordred are fighting, locked in single combat. Tony's in the air when he sees them, and he lands as fast as he can, screaming "No!" at the top of his lungs, because he knows-- he knows exactly what's coming--

He thought he'd have more time--

Mordred strikes the fatal blow, and Arthur staggers back and collapses in Tony's arms.

"Steady, Arthur!" Tony says, even though he knows what this is. He's read this moment. He's memorized this moment. This is how a king dies. "You're wounded."

"I will not last the hour, Sir Anthony." Arthur's voice rattles and wheezes. Blood flecks his lips. "Hear me out."

No. No, no, no. This doesn't happen. Not like this. This absolutely does not happen.

"The witch Morgana dreams that Arthur is Camelot -- and it shall pass with me! Let it not be so!" Arthur meets Tony's gaze as Tony eases him down, laying him on the ground. "You could hold the kingdom together and keep Camelot standing! Will you take my crown, Man of Iron?"

This isn't what happens. This isn't supposed to happen. But it's happening.

The light in Arthur's eyes is dimming and Tony chokes back tears. It's not the first time someone's died in his arms, but-- this is _King Arthur_. And this is King Arthur's dying wish, and well. Tony seems to have made a habit out of following the orders of the kind of man you meet -- if you're lucky -- once in a lifetime. He's known two of them.

(He wants so badly to tell Steve about Arthur.) 

"You know that I can't refuse you, Arthur," Tony says, his voice hoarse, and Arthur's face goes still and slack in an all-too-familiar way. "Arthur?" he asks, even though he knows already.

There is no response.

"The king is dead!" shouts one of the men behind him.

Another man picks up the cry. "Long live the king! Long live King Anthony of Britain!"

Tony's kneeling in a muddy, blood-soaked field and cradling Arthur Pendragon's body in his arms. Behind his mask, there are tears running down his face.

This is when he realizes the Avengers aren't coming for him.

* * *

It's the subject of countless science-fiction stories: you're a time-traveler, stranded in the past. What do you do? The classic presentation of this story, hard SF, usually gives the time-traveler a leg up: a true Renaissance man, the author usually posits, conveniently knowledgeable about technology, and also somehow in a position to be trusted by the local government. (Tony might have read "Lest Darkness Fall" a lot as a child.)

Well, Tony's an excellent engineer, very widely read, can invent pretty much anything he damn well pleases, and also he's king of the Britons, so on that front he's doing well for himself. Eat your heart out, L. Sprague de Camp.

This is the question the stories don't cover: how do you live like this? How do you go home?

Just because the Avengers aren't here yet doesn't mean they won't be. They just haven't heard of him yet.

See, Tony has a plan. King Arthur was a myth. King Arthur was a legend. King Anthony won't be. He'll do right by his people. He'll do good in the world, and he'll introduce as much as he can -- civil rights, sanitation, medicine, technology centuries beyond what they should have, everything he can manage -- to keep the kingdom going. He'll hold back the Dark Ages with his own two hands if he has to. It's for Arthur, it's him doing what Arthur asked, but it's for him too. He doesn't want to be a myth. He doesn't want to be a legend. He wants to be history.

Because if he makes it into history, into the actual historical record, maybe someday they'll look at what will have happened in Camelot under his rule and realize that it should have been impossible. That no one from this time could have done what he will do. Some academic will propose it. People will laugh, will call them crazy. And then someone will get around to inventing time travel, and they'll realize it wasn't that crazy after all.

It's not too late. He just needs to send a message to the future. He needs to use the shape of his life to send a message.

And then, then -- they'll come for him.

* * *

It starts with the small things.

"Your Majesty," his king of arms says -- because apparently he has a king of arms. "Have you perhaps given any thought to heraldry? Your personal device? For your shield?"

Tony's about to brush this one off. The majority of the knights are feasting, and there's too much mead around for him to be entirely comfortable being in the room; he has a few good hours of daylight left to work on his inventions. He's been thinking about what the options are for reliable birth control for his kingdom, which he's probably going to need to be able to have before he can attract more women to the knighthood; he's taking the long view again. He should really work on incandescent lighting, too.

Whatever. Symbols are just symbols. He inherited Arthur's dragon standard; he'll pass it on to his future heir. It's never really felt like his. As Arthur's knight his request for a coat of arms had literally been "eh, just slap some red and gold on it." No wonder they thought he should have a new one. It didn't matter. He'd hardly ever used it, since he always did his own fighting in the Iron Man suit. And he'd thought-- he'd thought he'd be out of here. He'd thought it wouldn't matter.

But this is going to count. He's the king now. If they remember him, if he does his job right, his personal coat of arms -- if he has one -- is going to be recorded. It'll be in the history books.

He knows, then, exactly what he has to pick.

"A shield," he says, and then longing hits him somewhere under the ribs and he can't quite breathe for wanting it. "Paly argent and gules, a chief azure, upon the chief three mullets argent."

What do you know, being a giant nerd has finally paid off.

The other man blinks. "Very good, Your Majesty."

He bites back the familiar wave of loathing, of denial, the thought that says that's not his, that he doesn't deserve to use it.

Steve will forgive him.

And someday, someone will wonder why King Anthony Stark's shield looked a hell of a lot like Captain America's.

* * *

His shield is painted for him in short order; it's not vibranium, but it'll do. He wonders idly if there's a way to establish trade with Wakanda, if his suit will hold a charge long enough to get him there. If he can't do it, he'll have to leave notes for whoever succeeds him.

There's been some muttering -- mostly from Bedivere -- about how Tony should get on with the business of producing an heir. Or at least wenching.

But Tony's not-- he's not--

He's waiting.

He's going to see Steve again. He'll tell him; he'll tell him when he gets home. And if Steve says no, he can live with it, but he has to take the chance. Their lives are too short.

Tony hangs the shield in his rooms, and he sleeps better than he has in a long time. When his dreams wake him -- because they always do -- he opens his eyes, and the light from the hearth flickers across the room, playing over the safe, comforting blur of red, white, and blue.

It's what he's got.

* * *

Tony is the best king he knows how to be. His fame, and Camelot's, spreads far and wide. He implements universal education. He gets the lights working. He figures out heating and air conditioning. A year passes, then two. Then three. He finds a gray hair in his beard.

They're not here yet.

He has to do better.

There are songs about him now. Songs and stories and poems. He knows those aren't good enough; the oral tradition will distort them, will make him into some kind of magician, will say none of this could have been real. Though he is, in fact, working on the printing press, he knows there's almost no chance of primary sources surviving as long as he needs them to. He'll have to live on through his work, then. Inventions. Social change.

He has to be good. He has to be great. He has to be great enough for the Avengers to find him.

* * *

There are new knights. Of course there are new knights. They seem to get younger and younger every year.

Tony skipped the trials this morning; Bedivere's judgment is good enough for him. So he sits on his throne, and he watches Bedivere lead the newest group of candidates before him. It's hard to tell with all the armor, but he thinks the gender ratio this month is about sixty-forty. Eh. Could be better. He has a private bet with himself going about how long it will be before one group of new knights is a hundred percent female.

The first-ranked candidate, at the head of the group, kneels before him. Bedivere hadn't mentioned the man's name, but he'd said he was particularly impressive. He was from outside the kingdom, and his astonishingly well-spoken, intelligent answers had amazed the questioners. In combat he'd been courteous and kind to his fallen foes, befitting a knight. He sounds like someone to watch. Tony's been keeping an eye out. He does need an heir. Someone will have to take this place over when he leaves.

Tony stands and smiles down at the man. "What is your name, candidate?"

He lifts his helmet away and sets it by his knee. His hair shines, golden-bright.

The man looks up, and familiar blue eyes meet Tony's.

"Steve Rogers, Your Majesty."

His heart pounds. He can't breathe.

He did it. He really did it. Steve came.

He's going home.

* * *

Bedivere looks at him like he's crazy -- Tony's pretty used to that -- but he escorts Steve to his private quarters and leaves them alone when Tony tells him to go.

Tony watches Steve take in the surroundings. Steve's eyes pass over the shield on the wall, his shield, and he says nothing. Like he expects it to be there.

"Steve," Tony says, desperately, and it feels like he's falling from a great height, falling without the suit on.

He wants to hug him -- God, he wants Steve to hold him and never let go -- but he gets as far as putting his hands on Steve's shoulders when the look in Steve's eyes stops him. Steve's face is pale; his eyes are wide in confusion, like he doesn't understand why Tony is touching him.

"Sire," Steve says, and it breaks Tony's heart to hear him say that, like he just wants to keep pretending he doesn't know him. "I don't think I'm who you think I am. I'm just a man who came to Camelot to offer my shield in service. I'd be honored to be one of your knights."

The bottom drops out of Tony's stomach. This isn't funny. This really isn't funny. Why is Steve even here if he's going to be like this? They have privacy. It's safe. They can talk. Maybe Steve's hurt. Maybe it's amnesia. Brain damage? No, God, no, the serum should fix that--

He drops his hands and Steve just stares at him, hurt, like Tony's just rejected him, like he really, seriously wanted nothing more than to kneel at Tony's feet. Like he'd dreamed of it with all of his heart. "I'm sorry," Steve offers. "If you'll have me, I'll swear to you."

No. No, no, no, no. Definitely not. "Christ," Tony says, horrified, "and make you my vassal?"

His stomach roils at the thought. He could never. Steve is-- Steve can't. He can't do this. Why is Steve doing this to him?

"This doesn't make sense," Tony says. "Unless my memory's going." He's not actually crazy. He can't be crazy. This is Steve. This is really Steve. He tries a smile. "Sorry, but this has got to be confusing for you, eh, Captain America?"

Steve blinks at him in astonishment. He recognizes the name. Okay. Good. This is Steve. He knows who he is. Tony breathes out and smiles again. This is Steve. Very weird, but still Steve.

"It's not my mistake," Tony says, relieved. He's shaking. "Is this some weird charade or did you get conked on the head when they threw you back in time?"

Steve's current facial expression looks like someone has just whacked him in the face with his own shield, so Tony's betting on yes. "How-- wait--"

So Tony tells him about Victor fucking von Doom, about how he was trapped here, about Arthur, and he's halfway through asking Steve where the rest of the Avengers are when Steve tilts his head.

"Avengers?"

"Crap," Tony says. Definite memory problems. Patchiness. It'll come back, he's sure. "Um. Well, you remembered Captain America, right?"

"No," Steve says. "I mean, yes, but I'm not her. Captain Europa, at your service."

What the hell?

"Europa?"

"Of the Commonwealth of Europa," Steve says. There's wonder in his eyes now, together with a kind of patriotic fervor, the way Steve gets when he's going on about liberty and freedom. "Founded by -- gee, by you, though none of the history books ever worked out that you're... a time-traveler."

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

The room wobbles around him and he collapses into a chair.

"Oh, God," he says, staring up into Steve's eyes. A stranger's eyes. "I changed things."

He'd made his mark on history, all right.

His problem wasn't that he wasn't good enough.

His problem was that he was _too good_.

Tony feels his mouth shape a small, sad smile. "I guess you're not really here to bring me home."

Steve's breath catches, and he doesn't meet Tony's eyes, and it's answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has [a post](http://sineala.tumblr.com/post/140008912484/fic-hour-of-greatest-need-the-left-to-his-own) you can like/reblog on Tumblr if that's your thing.
> 
> I could not work this into the actual story but it is very important to me that you know that it is my firm belief that this world's Captain America is Danielle Cage, like in [the 20XX universe](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Danielle_Cage_\(Earth-15061\)).
> 
> Because I know you all care deeply, here are some things I discovered about shields:
> 
> The Wikipedia page on [attributed arms](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attributed_arms) is actually really fascinating and has arms for kings who were unfortunate enough to live before heraldry. I guess the authors of medieval romances didn't let a little thing like that stop them from having fun. Apparently the most common device for Arthur is three gold crowns on an azure field. The device Doomquest gives him is this black thing I assume is a dragon on what I assume is supposed to be gold but looks like yellow. The What If gives Arthur an entirely different device that has three... lions, I think... and a big diagonal stripe. Clearly continuity is for other people. (I know nothing about heraldry, okay?) I went with the Doomquest one. Yay dragons.
> 
> Also Steve's triangular shield (which is what Tony creates in this story) actually has red, white and blue stripes on the bottom in early canon, which you can see on the cover of Captain America #1, say. At some point Marvel completely retconned this and [modern representation of Steve's first shield in the comics](http://somnolentbear.tumblr.com/post/139164904499) (as well as in the MCU) has gone for red and white stripes only, so that was what I did. (Thanks, sleepy, for the panels!)
> 
> That is all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thou Art My Shield (the Rome in a Day Re-remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072309) by [Teyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teyke/pseuds/Teyke)




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